"Then he will have his rights, if he has a leg to stand on," said Carrington grimly. "Mallien struck me as a man who would go through fire and water for himself. Why did your father make a will in his favor?" "He did not. The will was made one hundred years ago, by John Hendle, from whom Mallien and I are descended." "One hundred years ago," echoed the barrister puzzled. "Then how comes it you have to do with it now?" "Leigh found it in the Muniment Room." "Confound his zeal. But still I don't quite understand. Perhaps you will tell me the whole story from the beginning. I suppose you have come to ask my advice as a friend?" "Yes, and as a barrister." "My best forensic lore is at your disposal. Well?" Hendle at once began his explanation, and, as he proceeded, became much too restless to remain seated. Midway in the recital he started to his feet and began to pace the narrow limits of the office. Shading his eyes with his hand and drawing figures on the blotting paper, Carrington listened to the rather amazing story of Leigh's discovery, and when in possession of the facts looked rather skeptical. "I understand that you have not seen the will?" "No. Leigh, as is natural with so untidy a man, has mislaid it." "Then how do you know the will exists?" "Leigh says so." "Humph!" Carrington threw down his pencil and leaned back with a doubtful look. "I think the vicar's wits must be wool-gathering. He has no enmity against you, I suppose?" "Enmity?" Hendle stopped in his walk and stared. "I mean he is your friend." "Oh, yes. Leigh and I are great friends." "And his attitude toward Mallien?" "He doesn't like him overmuch. Mallien is so rude to him." "And to everyone," finished Carrington with a shrug. "A most disagreeable person. Well, as Leigh likes you and doesn't like your cousin, I take it he could not have invented this story to do you out of the property in Mallien's favor." "No. Leigh is the best of good fellows, though rather eccentric. He must have found the will; it is impossible that he could have suggested its existence otherwise." "I suppose not," murmured Carrington vaguely; then glanced shrewdly at his client. "Does he know your family history?" "Everyone in Barship knows that," replied Hendle, dropping again into his chair with a sigh. "There is nothing to know really, as we have always been a dull, homely lot of people." "Tell me how your descent runs from John Hendle?" "In the direct male line. Frederick, the son; Henry, the grandson; Charles, the great-grandson, and myself, the great-great-grandson." "And Mallien's descent?" "He comes in the female line from Walter, the eldest son of John Hendle. Eunice, the daughter of Walter and the granddaughter of John, married George Filbert. Mrs. Filbert had a daughter Anne, who married Frank Mallien, and her son is Julius, my cousin, who has, as you know, a daughter."